


Everything That is Right With the World

by AShortWalkToDelinquency



Series: 5+1 - a year in holidays, mpreg style [3]
Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Gifts, Light Angst, M/M, Married Couple, Mpreg, Valentine's Day, baby anxiety, so much love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:28:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28440891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AShortWalkToDelinquency/pseuds/AShortWalkToDelinquency
Summary: "Well. I want to make it extra special," Malcolm grins and presses up onto his tiptoes to slide their lips together. It turns from something chaste to something with much more promise after only a moment, and Gil feels indecently proud about the pleased hum that slips from Malcolm's lips just before his husband pulls back. "Notthatspecial," Malcolm laughs lightly, "At least, not yet. Dinner's ready."
Relationships: Gil Arroyo/Malcolm Bright
Series: 5+1 - a year in holidays, mpreg style [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1862899
Comments: 4
Kudos: 25





	Everything That is Right With the World

**Author's Note:**

> It's Valentine's day for our boys!!
> 
> And if I'm doing the math right, Malcolm is approximately 19 1/2 weeks pregnant ❤

Gil hates Valentine's day.

It's not that he has anything against the day in particular — he and Jackie had always found time to celebrate together before she passed, and now that he's with Malcolm, there's nothing that he loves more than showering his husband with the love and affection he deserves — but after nearly three decades with the NYPD, he's seen the darker side of the day, too.

Domestic assault cases always spike on February 14th. As do reports of date rape. There's always a homicide or two to investigate as well, as people's visions of an ideal evening are shattered by the reality of life in all its imperfect glory.

So Gil isn't a particularly big fan of the day.

But as he stands on the front porch of their house with a dozen roses in his hand, he tries to shake off his disappointment with mankind in general and leave his cynicism at the door.

Malcolm deserves better.

And thinking of his husband, belly rounding beautifully as their child grows inside of him, clears the last of his disillusionment almost immediately.

Everything that is right with the world is just behind that door.

By the time he's fitting his key in the lock, there's a smile on his face and a warmth in his heart, and he's ready to celebrate the day how it's intended to be celebrated. 

The aroma of Malcolm's eight-layer casserole — Gils favourite of all the superb dishes Malcolm has taken to preparing — hits his nose as soon as the door is open and his stomach gives an anticipatory growl at the scent. It smells absolutely delicious. 

He toes off his shoes and nudges them into the closet, but before he has a chance to shrug off his jacket, he freezes in place, blood running cold, as he hears a choked-down sob coming from the direction of the kitchen.

It only takes a fraction of a second before Gil is rushing down the hall, flowers dropped to the floor as he moves, forgotten before they've even slipped from his fingers.

When he bursts into the kitchen, he's not entirely sure what he's looking at.

Malcolm is kneeling on the floor, a long swath of fabric wrapped around his torso and trailing on the tile behind him, his face buried in his hands as his body shakes with repressed sobs. In front of him, smashed on the floor, are the juicy remains of a watermelon.

"Sweetheart?" Gil says quietly, sidestepping the mess as he makes his way to Malcolm's side and drops down to his knees next to him. "Malcolm, what's wrong?"

Malcolm shakes his head and refuses to answer, but he does lean into Gil, allowing him to wrap his arms around him as he lets out the last of his tears. Gil isn't sure what exactly the problem is, but he's more than happy to kneel here with Malcolm all night if that's what he needs.

While he rubs soothing circles over Malcolm's back, he takes a moment to look around the kitchen. There are several casserole dishes on the counter, though Gil can't tell what's in them from his position on the floor, but it seems as though Malcolm really went to town on preparing a special dinner for them.

The table is dressed for a romantic night, too. Gil's pretty sure he's never seen the off-white tablecloth that's draped over the table, but he recognizes the candlesticks as wedding gifts from Jackie's aunt that have been in the back of the linen closet for over a decade. Even from where he's kneeling, he can tell Malcolm polished the silver before setting them out.

There are even cloth napkins (also new) folded in a fan shape sitting on the plates. The good plates, Gil notes. One of several wedding gifts from Jessica that were, frankly, beyond extravagant. The Hermès set of dishware likely cost a year of his wages, which makes Gil hesitant to ever use them. Malcolm pulling them out now is a clear indicator of just how special he wanted to make their night.

Gil actually gets a little teary at just how much effort Malcolm obviously put into their evening.

"Sweetheart, is there anything I can do to help?" Gil quietly murmurs with his mouth pressed to the top of Malcolm's head. He'd waited to ask until Malcolm's breath had evened out and he no longer felt the shakes racking his husband's body, ensuring he gives him the time he needs to settle before trying to make things better.

Malcolm sniffles quietly then pulls away slowly, looking up at Gil with tear-stained cheeks as he says, "You can make sure I'm never allowed anywhere near our baby."

Gil's been expecting a bout of nerves from Malcolm since Malcolm first told him of the pregnancy back at Christmas. The kid has a terrible habit of underestimating himself and, while Gil _knows_ with every fibre of his being that Malcolm is going to be the best daddy their child could ever hope for, Malcolm has enough issues with his own father to make parental insecurities a given.

"Never gonna happen, city boy," Gil says gently, cupping Malcolm's face and waiting until Malcolm meets his eyes before he says, "Our baby is going to be the luckiest kid in the world to have you as a father."

He means it so much it hurts.

Malcolm can obviously see the conviction in his eyes because he relaxes just a little, the tension on his face draining away.

"Wanna tell me what this is all about?" Gil asks, relatively certain that Malcolm is calm enough to talk about what prompted this melt-down without getting trapped inside the feelings all over again.

After sucking in a deep breath, Malcolm sweeps a hand out to emphasize the splattered watermelon. "I killed our baby."

Gil leans in and drops a gentle kiss to Malcolm's lips when his chin starts to quiver at the words. He's still not entirely sure what happened, but he's starting to get a good idea.

"That's not our baby, sweetheart. It's a watermelon," Gil says simply, making sure there isn't an ounce of judgement in his voice.

Malcolm rolls his eyes and the knot in Gil's stomach loosens just a little at the all too familiar gesture. And as Malcolm swipes at the tear-tracks staining his skin and huffs out a long-suffering sigh, Gil knows that he'll be just fine.

"Obviously," Malcolm sniffles again, "But it was acting as a proxy for our baby. And I dropped her."

Now that Malcolm is no longer wrapped up in his arms, Gil can get a better look at the length of fabric that's wound loosely around his body, recognizing it as the baby wrap carrier that Ainsley brought with her the last time she came over (and they're really going to have to speak with both Ainsley and Jessica about not bringing baby gifts with them every time they get together. Their child's nursery is already stacked full of gifts, mostly still in the package, because of their tendency to buy every baby-related item they come across).

And suddenly it all makes sense. Gil can practically _see_ Malcolm using the watermelon as a stand in for the baby, attempting to learn how the wrap works, only to have the watermelon slip from the sling and crash to the floor.

"Kid, this is why we practice. And we'll learn how to use this together so that by the time we need to use it, we'll be able to get it on with our eyes closed," Gil assures him while he takes hold of Malcolm's hands and clasps them softly in both of his. His heart swells with love for the man in front of him, seeing him so determined to be the best father he can possibly be. Now he just needs to convince him that he doesn't need to be an expert in all things baby related.

"I know," Malcolm sighs quietly. "I just had some time while the casserole finished and decided to give it a—" Malcolm's eyes go comically wide as he cuts off his own sentence and launches to his feet, startling Gil enough to knock him back onto his butt on the cool linoleum floor.

His knees are decidedly happy about the change.

"The casserole!" Malcolm shouts as he bounds over the watermelon carcass and dashes to the oven. 

Gil can't help the laughter that bubbles up from his chest as he watches his husband perform the almost balletic leap only moments after sobbing over a shattered watermelon on the kitchen floor. He knows that the pregnancy hormones are hitting Malcolm especially hard (more so than they probably should, simply because of the medications he had to reduce or eliminate altogether when he realized he was pregnant) but the swings are definitely keeping Gil on his toes and he's learning to roll with them as they come.

Once Malcolm has the casserole out of the oven and has confirmed that it's no worse for wear, he turns to find Gil still sitting on the floor in the middle of the kitchen and, even from where he's seated, Gil can see the blush that sweeps over his cheeks.

"Gil," Malcolm cringes ever so slightly, "I'm sorry. I wanted to do something special for you for Valentine's day, and I ruined it."

Gil pushes to his feet with a groan, his knees and back protesting his unexpected perch on the floor, and makes his way over to Malcolm, wrapping him up in his arms. "Any night I get to come home to you is special."

There's a twinkle in Malcolm's eye that makes Gil feel like he's floating, feeling just how lucky he is to have the kid in his life.

"Well. I want to make it extra special," Malcolm grins and presses up onto his tiptoes to slide their lips together. It turns from something chaste to something with much more promise after only a moment, and Gil feels indecently proud about the pleased hum that slips from Malcolm's lips just before his husband pulls back. "Not _that_ special," Malcolm laughs lightly, "At least, not yet. Dinner's ready." 

Gil plants a quick kiss on Malcolm's forehead and then turns to take care of the mess of watermelon on the floor while Malcolm dishes them up two platefuls of what looks like the most delicious meal Gil has ever laid eyes on.

By the time Gil is running one last lysol wipe over the floor to make sure nothing sticky is left behind, Malcolm is lighting the candles on the table and dimming the overhead light to almost nothing. As Gil washes up, quiet music begins to float through the kitchen, perfectly crowning the romantic atmosphere.

"It's beautiful, sweetheart," Gil says honestly. His whole life, he's been the one performing romantic gestures, large and small. It's a new feeling to have someone do something like this for him.

He finds he likes it quite a lot.

"Happy Valentine's day, Gil," Malcolm says from next to the table.

Gil isn't sure when exactly Malcolm found time to change, but he's in one of his maternity dress suits now — a beautiful Oxford blue pant and jacket combination that somehow makes his eyes appear even more crystalline than usual, paired with a flowing white shirt to accentuate his baby bump — looking so perfectly happy (and so drop dead gorgeous) that Gil's breath catches in his chest.

"Happy Valentine's day, Malcolm," Gil says when his words finally return. "Oh, right. Just one minute," he adds when he remembers the flowers he hastily discarded in the hallway when he rushed in.

He takes an extra minute to detour to their bedroom, shedding his coat and turtleneck and replacing it with the burgundy cashmere pullover that Malcolm bought him for Christmas. Malcolm has a tendency to curl up next to him on the couch and snuggle against his chest whenever he wears it, and he's not above using that to his advantage tonight. 

Dressed for dinner, he swings past the front hall and picks up the roses on his way back to the kitchen, pleased they don't look any worse for being carelessly tossed aside in his haste to get to Malcolm. He also grabs the gift box that he stowed away in the back of the hall closet, wondering briefly if Malcolm's already found it and peeked inside.

"For you, my love," Gil says as he hands the flowers to Malcolm, drinking in the pleased smile that spans his husband's face. 

"They're lovely," Malcolm whispers, "Thank you."

"Presents or dinner first?" Gil asks once he's pressed another kiss to Malcolm's cheek.

"Dinner," Malcolm says decisively as he grabs a vase and sets the flowers in, adding the bouquet to the already romantic table setting. Gil can't help but notice the way Malcolm's eyes drift to the box that Gil sets down on the table, though, and he bites down on the grin that tries to escape. "Don't want it getting cold. I made all your favourites."

And Malcolm isn't kidding. Their plates are filled with all of Gil's favourite dishes, and a quick look at the counter shows his favourite desserts waiting for later.

"You really outdid yourself here, kid," Gil says, pulling Malcolm's chair out and tucking it beneath him as he sits. "Everything looks amazing. I hope you weren't on your feet all day?"

As Gil takes his own seat and lays his napkin over his lap, he's already planning an intensive foot and calf massage for later in the evening, even if Malcolm just brushes his concerns off with a flick of his wrist and a deflective change in conversation.

Dinner is a quiet affair. Gil enjoys the food almost as much as he enjoys the company, helping himself to seconds of many of the dishes, and thirds to a few more. They take their time eating and Gil is especially pleased to note that Malcolm even has a healthy portion of a few of the less spicy foods. 

While Gil loves Malcolm's body no matter what shape it takes, there's something about the way he looks carrying those extra pounds that makes it hard for Gil not to stare. He just looks so...healthy. And Gil can't help but think that _healthy_ is a damn good look on the kid.

And...well, he can't deny that Malcolm is unbelievably sexy like this. Swollen with Gil's child. It does things to him that he hasn't quite been willing to fess up to, though he suspects Malcolm has already figured it out. And at this point, the bump is really just a gentle swell; certainly enough that anyone that sees Malcolm recognizes that he's pregnant immediately, but nowhere near how he'll look when he reaches his final trimester.

Gil can't wait.

So as he watches Malcolm take small bites of everything on his plate, his heart truly swells. Malcolm is doing every single thing the doctor recommended for their baby, and that includes ensuring a minimum number of calories every day. He's definitely hitting those numbers today and Gil couldn't be happier.

"This was...amazing," Gil says honestly, adoring the blush that heats Malcolm's cheeks at the compliment.

"I'm glad you enjoyed it," Malcolm says, "I have a few of your favourite desserts ready, too."

"Why don't we let dinner sit a while first?" Gil suggests. As much as he loves the sweet treats his husband prepared, he thinks he may actually explode if another morsel of food passes his lips. Malcolm chuckles quietly, knowing exactly why Gil is suggesting the break. "Why don't you go relax in the living room for a few minutes. I'll tidy up in here and then I can give you your gift."

"I can help clean," Malcolm chuckles, dropping his napkin on the table and readying himself to push to his feet.

"I know you _can_ ," Gil says, beating Malcolm to his feet and halting his movement with a gentle hand on his shoulder and a kiss to the top of his head, "but you already made this wonderful meal. Let me take care of cleaning it up."

It takes a little more persuading on Gil's part, but soon enough, Malcolm is in the living room with his feet up and Gil is putting away leftovers and taking care of dishes (washing the tableware with a vice-like grip to ensure he doesn't accidentally drop any of the absurdly expensive dishes).

Once everything is on the drying rack, Gil joins Malcolm in the living room, bringing the gift box in with him. He flops down on the couch and gestures for Malcolm to spin sideways, pulling his feet up onto his lap while Malcolm rolls his eyes and smiles fondly.

Gil hands the gift box over and then gently works to pull off Malcolm's socks, dropping them to the floor and softly kneading the arch of Malcolm's right foot, pulling a moan from his husband as his eyelids flutter closed.

"How do you always know the exact spot to rub?" Malcolm sighs, tilting his head to rest on the back of the couch.

Gil chuckles and continues to rub gently, applying slight pressure to all the spots suggested by the online pregnancy blog he's subscribed to (that Malcolm will never know about). 

"I'm just glad it feels good, sweetheart," Gil says as Malcolm hums contentedly.

It takes a moment until Malcolm opens his eyes and lifts his head, but when he does, his eyes drift right to the package in his hands. The little box is red with shiny red hearts all over, tied with a red ribbon that caps off in a large red bow (Ainsley may have helped with creating the perfect, fluffy bow, but that will remain between himself and his sister-in-law).

Malcolm pulls the edge of the bow and slides it off of the box, looking up to Gil before he removes the lid. Inside the box is a slip of paper, though there is quite clearly something underneath the tissue paper as well. Malcolm unfolds the slip before digging for the gift.

"A tea of the month subscription?" He smiles up at Gil. "Thank you, that's wonderful." 

Malcolm has a tendency to try new flavours of tea when he sees something exotic or interesting, so Gil figured that the subscription would be a good choice for a gift. He's more nervous about what's left in the box.

It had been years — probably almost a decade — since Gil had pulled out his old woodworking tools. So he took his time, working bit by bit whenever Malcolm was out, to create a picture frame for their first ultrasound picture.

Malcolm sucks in a sharp breath as he pulls back the tissue paper around the gift and lifts the handcrafted frame from the box. The photo from their ultrasound is already in place amidst the richly-stained wood, and Malcolm smiles softly as he sees it once again, but his eyes are quickly drawn to the letters painstakingly burned into the top and bottom of the frame. 

Gil watches as both his fingers and his gaze trace along the words around the picture.

_Baby Bright-Arroyo_

_love at first sight_

"Gil," Malcolm breathes. "It's beautiful. You made this?"

Feeling oddly self-conscious, Gil nods, feeling heat rush into his cheeks as Malcolm looks up at him with love in his eyes. He'd opted for something homemade since Malcolm has the ability to buy himself whatever he wants, and, outside of his weapons collection, has never had much interest in _things_ , anyways.

Before he has much time to rethink his gift choice, Bright is tugging his feet back and crawling over to Gil, throwing his arms around his neck as he pulls him into a crushing hug. 

"It's perfect," Malcolm whispers without loosening his hold. "Thank you."

They stay wrapped up in each other's arms for a moment longer before Malcolm pulls back and kisses Gil lightly, threading his hands through Gil's hair as he does. A few teasing nips at Gil's lower lip and then Malcolm's crawling back to his seat, wrapping a hand under his baby bump as he sinks back onto the corner of the couch. It's only as he settles in that Gil realizes Malcolm is still holding the frame, cradling it with a reverence that makes Gil's heart sing.

He pulls Malcolm's feet back to his lap and continues his foot massage, somehow more in love with the man than ever before. Malcolm Bright, the boy who saved his life and the man who altered it irrevocably. The beautiful soul who is growing their child inside of him. The husband that Gil would do anything for.

"Happy Valentine's day, sweetheart. I love you," Gil says as his thumbs stroke up the center of Malcolm's foot. 

"I love you, too," Malcolm says, the words heartfelt even if his eyes never leave the picture frame. "Oh. And I bought you an SUV," he adds absently, pulling a key from his inside pocket and tossing it to Gil without ever looking up.

"I'm sorry, you what?" Gil says, fumbling to catch the key as it sails to him.

"Getting a baby in and out of a two door muscle car isn't exactly ideal. Obviously we'll still keep it, but an SUV is far more practical and has a higher safety rating. To keep Baby Bright-Arroyo safe," Malcolm smiles as he traces the letters with his thumb once again.

Gil just stares at the key in his hand as Malcolm adds, "Happy Valentine's day. It's out front."

All he can do is grin and shake his head. He's not sure he'll ever _really_ get used to Malcolm's casual extravagance, but right now, there are far more important things to focus on. He places the key on the coffee table with a small but sincere, "thank you," and leans back, picking up Malcolm's foot once again to rub firm yet tender circles just beneath his toes.

Malcolm actually looks up from the photograph as Gil restarts his massage, absolutely glowing as a warm smile spreads slowly over his face.

It's the kind of smile that only Gil ever gets to see; the kind that makes it seem as if the weight of Malcolm's past has vanished into the ether, no longer the crushing burden it's been for so long. 

The kind of smile that says, despite growing up with more money than God, he only now has everything he's ever wanted.

Gil understands _that_ feeling perfectly. 

With Malcolm at his side and their baby on the way, he couldn't ask for a single thing more from this life.

And as they settle in for a massage and a movie, for cuddles and kisses, Gil starts to think that maybe Valentine's day isn't so bad after all.


End file.
